Knotted Together
by Little Leaf of the Redwoods
Summary: Sequel to Knots. A new year has come for the Hansen boys, one filled with challenges and tribulations where the bonds of family will be put to the test. Includes drama, angst, discipline (spanking), brotherly love, hurt/comfort and lots of fluffy moments, just like the original.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N #1: I'm not sure who out there is interested in a sequel but since I stopped writing, I've literally gained five pounds (too much munching at night in front of the TV during winter). So, on the precipice of my 40****th**** birthday this weekend, I've shut off the TV, taken my hand out of the cookie jar and started working on a new story. **

**As before, the premise is the same - this is still a story about three young brothers trying to adjust to life without their mother. Family dynamics, situational drama, discipline, trust and love remain the overall themes. **

* * *

Four months later….

On the eve of Christmas Eve 1984, Norman Scott Hansen sat alone, sans one loyal, snoring dog, in the living room of the family home. The seventeen-year-old had a lot on his mind, all of which was keeping him from a restful night's sleep. A trip downstairs and a glass of milk were the only formidable weapons in Norman's arsenal for the battle against insomnia.

It was three o'clock in the morning and the world outside was still encased in icy darkness. The earlier snow had settled on the evergreen trees like fondant on a cake, hard and encrusted as it made its case for eternal winter. All that remained of the previous storm was a bitter, biting wind so strong that it traversed its way down the fireplace chute and deceptively crossed the floor of the quiet, modest two-story house.

The middle brother huddled the afghan throw blanket around his broad shoulders and contemplated starting a fire to chase away the chill. Instead, his eyes drifted over to the undecorated Christmas tree that waited patiently for someone to come and lovingly bestow it to its rightful place as the centerpiece of the sentimental season.

_It's a strange, stupid tradition when you really think about it_, Norman mentally brooded as the negative thoughts plaguing him all night got the better of him again. _Who the hell cuts down a perfectly good tree and drags it into their house, only to decide it doesn't look right without lights and shiny, spinning objects hanging from it. Then, they put presents under it like some form of apology for taking its perfectly good life. The logic in the tradition eludes me_.

With a snort that briefly disturbed Daisy's slumber, Norman turned away from the tree, with all its happy reminders of Christmases past, and put his chiseled chin in his hand. _Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I love Christmas, dying tree and all. I just miss my Mom, more this time of year than ever, and I'm worried sick about Sig. I didn't think it was possible to miss someone so much, both of them. At least trying to keep Edgar from completely falling apart kept me from wallowing in my own dark misery. Damn it, that kid's gonna lose it if Sig doesn't make it home in time for Christmas! Damn this fucking winter weather keeping him from…_

From out of a dead sleep, Daisy's silken head perked up, her ears alert and listening.

"What is it, girl?" Norman softly asked, straining his own inadequate human ears but catching no alarming sounds over the howling wind.

A second later, the back door that entered into the kitchen quietly opened.

Daisy took off like a blond rocket, headed in the direction of the intruder.

"Shit," Norman murmured, fear creeping up into his chest as he bravely followed the dog. _Maybe the wind blew the back door open?_

When he rounded the kitchen, a tall, dark figure shimmed its way into the home, obviously trying not to make a sound or get caught sneaking in.

Daisy growled low.

Norman wished he had his trusty baseball bat but that item had been long lost in a place that no longer existed. The knives sticking out of the counter butcher block would have to do in its stead.

Just then, a tuff of golden blond hair on the 'burglar' caught the single light left on in the kitchen. Spotting the flaxen color, Norman breathed a deep sigh of relief for so many reasons he couldn't pinpoint a single one.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!" Norman exclaimed in a hushed tone from the kitchen archway.

Standing in the dimly lit kitchen, one meager shaft of light from the hood above the stove, a beloved and filthy older brother smiled and dropped his duffle bag on the linoleum floor.

"Looks like you weren't the only one," Sig said as he glanced with trepidation at the growling dog that had him cornered against the back door. "What, girl," he asked the canine, "I've been gone so long that you forgot who I am?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Daisy's menacing, low growl rapidly turned into an excited whine. _I know you! The tall guy is finally home! Where have you been? I've missed you sooooo much. Why are you sneaking into the house this late at night? And why the heck do you smell so…fishy?_

The lab's entire countenance changed from aggressive to approachable in mere seconds. She jumped up and put her front paws on Sig's chest, desperately licking at his thick-stubbly cheeks with vigor.

Sig knelt down on the kitchen floor and let himself be 'attacked' with love for a few moments, laughing softly at the dog's exuberance.

"I was only gone a few months, Daze," the eighteen-year-old said with a deep giggle as the dog's moist tongue bequeathed his beard with saliva. He scratched and petted Daisy in all of her favorite places in an effort to make up for the lost time. "It wasn't all THAT long," Sig whispered as he nuzzled his nose into Daisy's neck.

Norman stood in the kitchen and watched his brother fuss over the family pet. From what his adjusting eyes could make out in the dim light, Sig seemed thinner and somehow impossibly taller than before he left. Perhaps it was the beard or the pounds of filth, dust and bits of crab guts still in his hair. Or it was the unmistakable air of authority that seemed to follow Sig in the back door.

Whatever it was, the change in his older brother brought back Edgar's prophetic words from last summer to the forefront of Norman's memory. '_Sig will come back but things will never be the same as they are now_' was what the kid astutely uttered at some point during their last summer together.

Now, Norman felt a sense of uneasiness. Here was the guy he waited months for, finally home safe and sound. He wanted to put his big arms around Sig and tell him how truly happy he was that he was back. But was this the same guy that left, the one he grew up with and counted as his closest confident and friend?

"It felt like you were gone forever," Norman whispered quietly, the words slipping out of his mouth with heartfelt meaning.

Slowly, Sig disengaged from the dog and stood up straight. His tired, cobalt blue eyes locked onto Norman's face for the first time since he's hastily said goodbye in August. Sweetly, Sig's face broke into a sheepish smile over the tender confession.

Norman stared back at his big brother, feeling a lump rise up in his throat. The smile seemed to transform Sig back into the boy he once was, a kid Norman could recognize almost as easily his own face. Whoever he had become or however he changed, Sig was home and nothing else mattered at the moment.

With purposeful strides, Norman began erasing the space between them.

Sig anticipated a hug, or something of the sort, and selflessly put his hands up to stop his brother. "Dude, I've been stuck in an airport for three days. I stink to high…"

"Don't care," Norman said dismissively, grabbing Sig's outstretched hands and pulling him into a long-awaited bear hug. The middle brother wrapped his arms around Sig's neck and buried his face in Sig's jacket, almost coming close to sighing.

Sig chuckled and responded with a hearty hug in return. "Oh God, I missed you, too bro," he whispered, looking over Norman's shoulder and around the dark kitchen of his house. I've missed all of you…and this place…" A_nd just being safe_. Then, with a wave of relief washing over him, Sig buried his nose into Norman's shoulder and just enjoyed the simple yet powerful feelings of being loved and missed.

"I…We…we thought about you every day," Norman said with slight embarrassment. Although they had come a long way over the summer, 'open sharing' was still a tough thing for the tough guy.

"Same here," Sig said, running his hands across Norman's shoulders. He caressed Norman's thick neck and felt the short hairs of his younger brother's traditional crew cut.

Silently, they hugged for a long minute or two, just holding each other in the 'unmanliest' of fashions and not caring one wit.

"You were right," Norman finally admitted, his words muffled against Sig's jacket.

"About what?"

The middle brother patted Sig on the back and then step away from him. "You do stink," Norman said and then finished with a wicked smile.

Sig reached out and good-naturedly cuffed his brother on the head. "Brat," he grumbled with a laugh, "I warned you. I didn't have time to get a shower after we offloaded." He tossed off his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.

"Well, you need one…A LONG one," Norman shook his head, the odor getting worse with the wafting of the jacket.

"It's the first thing I'm gonna do," Sig ran his hands through his long, blond hair, "And then I'm gonna sleep for the next twenty-four hours straight."

"Oh, big brother," Norman chided, leaning against the kitchen table with his arms crossed over his chest, "There's something in between the shower and the bed for you to do first…something VERY important."

Sig raised a questioning eyebrow. A second later, it dawned on him like someone slapped him across the face. "Edgar," he said the name softly.

"If you don't wake him up ASAP and let him know you're home, he's libel to have a conniption fit when he wakes up in the morning and…there goes your 24 hours of straight sleep," Norman leaned over and made a motion to grab Sig's bag.

"Wait," Sig whispered, reaching out and stilling Norman's forearm, "How is he? I mean, how has he been?"

Norman stood back straight and opened his mouth. He hesitated for a mere second, less than a blink of an eye, but Sig caught the pause.

"How is he…REALLY?" Sig said in a steely calm voice, "And don't give me the bullshit song and dance I've been getting over the phone when I call."

"He's…managing," Norman shrugged, unable to come up with a better word, "I guess."

"YOU GUESS?" Sig hissed low, instantly wary, "What do you mean, you guess?"

"Damn, Sig," Norman raised his voice slightly with frustration, "I'm not with him 24/7. I've got a lot of shit going on right now, OK?"

"A lot of shit…" Sig sputtered out, taking a second to regain his cool. With a needed sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to re-focus. Still, the hurtful accusation trickled out of his cracked lips. "Edgar should have been your number one priority," the tall blond whispered.

Norman scrunched his face like he just got slapped. Yet, he fired back, "You've been gone for months. Don't walk through the door and start complaining about how things weren't done to YOUR satisfaction." Taking a quick breath, he explained, "Edgar is FINE…he's exactly how you left him…missing you and Mom and hating every minute of school. Me, on the other hand…" Norman shrugged and left it at that.

"You what?" Sig asked, now more than wary and downright worried. _What the hell happened while I was gone?_ "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing that can't wait until morning…or another twenty four hours," Norman said with a painted-on smile. "Come on, you've only been home a minute or two…let's not start arguing already."

Sig's shoulders relaxed. He put a hand on Norman's thick shoulder and nodded his head. "You're absolutely right, Norm. I'm…I'm sorry. I'm so exhausted I don't even want a smoke before bed."

"Then you should be this tired all the time, even if you ARE extra grumpy for it," Norman chuckled. He picked up Sig's duffle bag and they both walked out of the kitchen, a dog in their wake.

"Try rushing to port to make an offload date and a plane through the worst storm of the season. I didn't sleep for days even BEFORE I got off the boat." Sig went on, "At least, I thought I had a plane to catch."

Daisy jumped up on Dad's easy chair, spun around three times and laid down in a tight ball of fur.

"Turns out, I was stuck for days, just trying to get out of Dutch," Sig complained, "Only when I got out, I was stuck with the same cancellation nightmare in Anchorage for another three days. Thankfully, the airport in Seattle offered me a free shuttle ride home. What they didn't tell me was I'd be the last stop on the trip."

"Should've called me. I would have picked you up at the airport," Norman grumbled.

"It was late. I didn't want to wake everyone up," Sig explained, "I've never been so dirty and tired in my entire life."

Norman listened intently, nodding and making the appropriate noise to indicate he was sympathetic to Sig's horrible experience.

Halfway into the living room, Sig came to a sudden halt. Something in the corner of the living room caught his eye and he slowly pointed over to it as if confused. "Is that our Christmas tree?" he asked as he stared hard at the object.

"Yup."

"Why…" he turned and looked at his younger brother, "…why is it just sitting in the corner, propped up against the wall with nothing on it?"

"Edgar insisted we wait for you to decorate it," Norman shrugged.

"Oh," Sig didn't know what else to say. He did wonder what his family would have done if he hadn't made it home in time for Christmas, "You decorated the outside. Looks good."

"Thanks."

"I saw the Steward's place is dark."

"Sale sign was taken down last week," Norman enunciated, "Looks like we'll be getting new neighbors pretty soon. Weird, though, because no one came to look at it…at least that I noticed."

"Hmmm," Sig hummed, changing the topic, "Dad get the tree?"

"Yes," Norman quietly ascended the stairs, "On one of his many secret rendezvous."

"Secret rendezvous?" Sig blindly followed behind his brother, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"SHHH…" Norman hissed, stopping mid-way on the stairs and turning around. Lowering his voice, he quietly explained, "Edgar doesn't realize this…NOR does he need to right now with Christmas and all…but…" The tough guy wrinkled his nose and said the words like they left a bitter taste in his mouth, "…I think dad may have…a girlfriend."

Sig's eyes almost popped out of his head, "WHAT?"

"SHHH…" Norman chided his brother again, "If you want that shower and some sleep, I suggest you keep your voice down. Otherwise, you'll wake up Dad and he'll want a full report right this second. And if that's the case, you should have called for a ride home."

"Jesus," Sig muttered, following behind Norman as he walked up the steps, "I'm just…shocked." He whispered with immediate denial, "Are you sure?"

Evenly, Norman uttered, "Pretty sure. The retired fishermen's club has been gossiping about it for weeks now. Apparently, she's a widow…like Dad."

"Maybe they're just friends," Sig said in a hushed tone, "You know how those old guys like to make a mountain out of a molehill for their own amusement."

Norman reached Sig's room, opened the door and tossed the duffle bag onto the freshly made bed. Anticipating his big brother's return, Edgar had changed the sheets and devotedly dusted and aired out the stale room several days ago.

As Sig passed close behind Norman and began unloading the contents of his bag, Norman leaned in and whispered right in Sig's ear, "Dad didn't come home last Saturday night," he imparted the knowledge onto his brother with a smug, 'know-it-all' facial expression, "Maybe he just stayed over HER house, playing Parcheesi and Monopoly all night long…like good friends do."

Sig's jaw dropped to the floor and stared at his brother in disbelief.

"Yeah," Norman tilted his head to the side and pointed at his brother's face, "That was exactly the same reaction I had when I woke up Sunday morning and Dad was just rolling in from the night before…smelling like old lady perfume."

"Holy…shit…" Sig exclaimed when he found his voice, putting the flat of his palm on his forehead like he was checking for a fever.

"And with that," Norman hastily reached over and gave his brother a quick hug, then detached himself and said, "…I'll leave the rest to your imagination."

Sig choked, feeling the bile rising up in his throat. "Ummm…NO THANK YOU."

"Goodnight, bro," Norman gave his brother a wide smile, "Sweet dreams."

"Jerk," Sig hissed, smiling as the insult held no malice, "After that information, I'll be lucky to have a dreamless sleep."

Norman chuckled. No one could make him laugh like his older brother. Likewise, no one could drive him up the wall like his older brother, either, but that was usually when he needed some well-timed distraction in his life. And, right now, Norman could use some distraction. "It's good you're home," he said, growing solemn, "I…I mean that, Sig."

"I'm VERY, VERY glad to be home," Sig said with all seriousness, "I just wish I would have gotten home sooner. The airport doesn't have much variety when it comes to Christmas shopping."

"You walking in the back door was the only Christmas present I wanted," Norman blushed bashfully and turned away, scurrying to his room before he lost his man card.

Sig watched him go, leaving his eyes on the empty doorway. In all the time he was away, he never forgot how much his family meant to him. In fact, the time apart had only solidified the importance of the three men in his life; his father, his younger brother and his kid brother. However, in this moment, he was reminded of how important HE was in THEIR lives.

_But who else had become important in their lives while I was away? Dad may have a girlfriend…do they call it that at his age…or would it be more apropos to say a 'lady-friend?' How is that going to affect our family? And what's bothering Norman that he's stalling about telling me? And why do I get the feeling something is already up with Edgar? Or maybe it's just the old things bothering him, like not having Mom around? _

Taking a moment to glance around his old room, Sig shook his head and wondered what other changes had taken place in his absence. Then, with a wry smile, he laughed sarcastically at his own thoughts. _What changes? Wasn't I ALWAYS looking for answers to these questions? _

* * *

Finding his grooming kit deep within the recesses of his duffle bag, Sig took a clean pair of clothes, headed to the bathroom and proceeded to get the longest shower of his life.

After scrubbing his skin and hair twice and finally getting rid of the crab smell, the oldest brother was just too damn tired to shave his beard. Deciding sleep was more imperative than a clean-shaven face, Sig towel dried his hair and changed into the first clean shirt, cotton pants and boxers that he'd worn in days. He couldn't help but notice that his pants hung loose around his waist.

Picking up his toothbrush, Sig gave the reflection in the mirror a half-hearted grimace. He still looked like shit despite the shower. Hair overgrown, dark circles the size of baseballs under his eyes and gaunt cheeks made him look like a wild man come in from the woods. Still, as his mother always insisted, he'd have clean teeth before going to bed.

Teeth clean and wearing fresh clothes, Sig felt more human than he had in a long time. Shutting out the bathroom light, he left the bathroom and traveled towards Edgar's bedroom door. As if his stomach sensed the upcoming unconsciousness, Sig's belly grumbled, reminding him that it had been deprived of food for the last twelve hours.

Even if he had the energy to go downstairs, Sig couldn't even muster enough stamina to eat. The long travels had left him feeling like an egg sizzling on a hot skillet and he was practically asleep on his feet. Food, along with a clean face, would have to wait.

Entering Edgar's room without a sound, Sig softly shut the door behind him and adjusted his eyes to the darkness. As with most snowstorms, the night sky was still orange in color and cast a meager light from the bedroom window.

On tiptoes, Sig made his way over to Edgar's bed. Taking a few stolen moments to himself, Sig gazed softly at the 'baby' of the Hansen family.

The dim light made it difficult to see if Edgar had grown or changed physically in his absence. The lump in the bed did seem longer than before but Sig was so used to the harshness of hardened, grown fishermen over the last few months that the innocent face of his youngest brother made Edgar seem all the more child-like.

Edgar lay sleeping quietly on his stomach, his right cheek snuggled into his fluffly pillow. As usual, his hands were buried underneath the pillow but Sig would bet his life savings there was a ring from Seattle High School's Class of 1984 on one of those hidden hands.

Sig anticipated an emotional reaction from his kid brother, actually looking forward to the affection coming his way and getting to wake up his brother with a homecoming surprise. But, in truth, he just wanted to climb into the big bed with his little brother, curl up together and fall asleep.

It seemed ridiculous to wake Edgar up, only to tell him to go back to sleep. _Jesus, the kid's gonna have a hundred questions, just like always. _

But Sig was ready to deal with the questions if it meant he could lie down in the warm, inviting bed.

Reaching out, Sig placed his palm on Edgar's back. He leaned over and whispered in the boy's one exposed ear, "Merry Christmas, kid."

A few seconds later, Sig had a thirteen-year-old clinging to his neck and sobbing gently into his shoulder.

"Am I dreaming?" Edgar finally whispered.

Sig grabbed the teen tightly to his chest. "No, baby. I'm home."

"I…I didn't think you would make it," Edgar sobbed.

"For a while there, I didn't think I was going to make it, either," Sig hugged Edgar with a nuzzle to his temple.

Something scratching caught Edgar's attention. He unwrapped his arms from around his brother and pulled back. Tears quietly streaming down his face, Edgar studied his oldest brother as if he'd never seen him before.

With a curious look, he reached out a hand and rubbed at Sig's beard, the ring on his finger glimmering in the pale light.

"You like it?" Sig asked, patiently allowing his brother to inspect his furry face. He took the liberty of wiping the remaining tears off Edgar's cheek.

Edgar continued to run his hand over the wiry hair. "It makes you look so…different."

"Hmmm…" Sig closed his eyes and enjoyed the gentle touch, "…it'll be gone tomorrow…by Christmas, definitely." The tender touch and the soft bed under his sore, tired backside were starting to have a soothing, hypnotic effect. The eighteen-year-old almost fell asleep sitting up and he had to catch himself from toppling over.

"Edgar," Sig said sleepily, "Move over before I fall over."

Obligingly, Edgar shifted over to the other side of the spacious bed and watched Sig practically fall into the now vacant and very warm spot. Within seconds, Sig was fast asleep but not before putting an arm around his brother and pulling him close to his side.

Edgar lay in the darkness, listening to his brother's even breathing and questioning again if this was a dream. _If it's a dream, then I don't want to wake up_. He snuggled close to Sig, mentally listing out all the questions he was going to ask his brother when he woke up. But the first order of business was to give Sig his ring back.

The ring had resided on Edgar's index finger since the moment Sig placed it there for safe keeping. Playing with it now, shifting the cool metal back and forth with his thumb, Edgar was loathed to give up the treasured item. _But it means Sig's home! And nothing is more valuable than THAT! I can't wait to show him how responsible I was in keeping it safe, just like he wanted me to. I love making him proud of me. AND, my show of responsibility in the case of the ring MAY just offset the atrocious report card that will be coming home after the holidays. _

_Oww, who the hell am I kidding? Once that report card comes home, I'm not going to see the light of day. _

Spinning the ring like a talisman, Edgar contemplated how familiar he'd become with having the jewelry on his finger. He especially liked wearing it around Norman, comparing and contrasting it with Norman's 1985 class ring that never left the big guy's finger. _But, as much as I will miss Sig's ring, it will be good to see it on his hand again. He lost it, once…well, he gave it away…traded it, really…for my life...let's not think about THAT…._

Edgar burrowed under Sig's arm and tried to go back to sleep. Yet, he was too excited now, having his brother home, to fall back asleep that easily. Finally allowing himself to get lost in the spirit of Christmas, Edgar started planning out how they were going to decorate the tree as well as some other traditions that had yet to be honored this Yuletide season.

For an hour or so, the kid lay awake, planning and thinking and enjoying that he had two weeks off from school. Mostly this time was spent surrounded by the presences of his big brother, a signal that Edgar was safe and secure.

That's not to say Edgar hadn't been safe and secure while Sig was gone but, despite how much his father and Norman tried to attend to him, their own lives had kept them busy. Dad seemed to be enjoying the retired life, sleeping late and running with the 'Silver Fox' club. Norman, in particular, had been tremendously pre-occupied lately with school, work and his girlfriend, Amanda.

Recently, Edgar got the feeling something was going on with Norman and Amanda, although he couldn't put his finger on exactly what that something was.

As Edgar made a valiant effort to fall asleep, Sig started to stir next to him.

Edgar froze, holding his breath for fear of waking his exhausted brother with his mere breathing.

After a lonesome four weeks of First Mate training, including all his medical certifications, Sig had spent the better part of the following months focused on learning, via on-the-job training, from his surly co-captain and simply surviving the unforgiving elements. Bringing the crab, the men and the boat home safely had kept the young man mentally occupied. There was no time to think about the half-dozen times he'd almost died.

Having only been out on the boat on short, local trips in the summer, when the weather was typically calmer, Sig was awestruck by the towering waves that seemed to dwarf the 125 ft. Northwestern. Storms came and went so quickly that they seemed to ride on the heels of each other, never breaking or letting up. Then, seeing one of the men injured by a swinging picking hook chilled Sig to the bone. For a while, Sig had to go on deck to make up for the temporary loss of able-bodied hands.

But, in the end, it was the sheer vastness of the big, dark ocean that had left an indelible impression. Until a person has experienced utter isolation, and in the harshest of places with the only aid hundreds of miles away, it is otherwise an unimaginable nightmare.

Now Sig no longer had to use his imagination. It had become a reality.

Naturally, with his guard down in sleep, Sig's mind returned to the vast, frightening ocean. Except, this time, his mind didn't leave him with a ship under his feet.

Dreams of drowning caused Sig to toss and turn in the bed, his actions mimicking his fight against sinking down into the dark abyss.

Edgar could see from his brother's contorted facial expressions that Sig was lost in a nightmare. Yet, the kid was at a loss as to how to handle the situation. More times than he cared to remember, Edgar had been woken up by his older brothers during a horrific nightmare. But they had always been there to sooth him back to sleep. This reversal left Edgar wondering if he had the ability to sooth anyone back to sleep, especially his oldest brother and certified hero.

_Maybe I should get Norman_, was the only suitable solution Edgar could come up with. But, as he rose on his elbows, Sig awoke with a jolt.

Sitting up, panting for breath and placing a hand over his racing heart, Sig glanced around the familiar bedroom and repeatedly told himself it was just a nightmare. _Happens to fishermen ALL the time, especially when they just get home from a long trip. I just didn't think it would be so realistic._

"You OK?" a small, male voice whispered from behind him. Sig turned his head to the side and looked down, finding concerned green eyes staring back at him.

"Yeah," Sig whispered back, lying back among the pillows. He stared up at the ceiling and, with one arm, pulled Edgar up against his chest. "Just a nightmare."

"Now you're having nightmares?" Edgar tried to sound lighthearted, "I thought I had the market in this family when it came to bad dreams."

"Hmmm…I guess not," Sig absentmindedly rubbed Edgar's back, "Have you had any lately…since I've been gone?"

"When you first left…some…but not nearly as many now," Edgar answered honestly.

Sig was silent for a moment. Then, he confessed, "It was truly scary out there…so much more so than I could have imagined."

"YOU were scared?" Edgar raised his head and put his chin on Sig's chest, "I can't believe it."

"I wouldn't lie to you, buddy," Sig smiled at the disbelief in the kid's eyes, "I almost shit my pants a few times."

Edgar playfully punched his brother's rib and laid his head back down, cheek over Sig's heart. "You're joshing."

Sig only smiled and tightly held his brother as he shifted down under the covers. "Just wait. In a few years, when you're out there on the boat with me, you may believe otherwise."

"Sig?"

"Yeah, kid?"

Edgar listened to his brother's calming heartbeat. He could feel the rise and fall of Sig's chest against his cheek with each inhale and exhale. Finally, sleep started to catch up to the young teen. "As long as you're with me," he muttered before he closed his eyes and drifted off, "I'll never be afraid."

Sig smiled into the darkness. _Then I will be scared enough for the both of us_. Despite being still, his body felt like it was still in motion. He likened the feeling to being on roller skates for a long time and then taking them off and sitting down.

Letting the swaying carry him off, Sig quickly fell back asleep, dreaming of the silent snow covering the earth.

~tbc

**A/N #2 – Next chapter will focus on a little Christmas family fluff and just some general brotherly love. Then, some new neighbors will shake things up and a tragic accident will change the course of 1985 for the Hansen family.**

**I'll try to update bi-weekly but no promises…reviews may help motivate me to push for quicker updates (AND keep me from raiding the kitchen at 9pm). In the future, A/Ns will be minimal but that doesn't mean I don't like to hear from people reading along.**

**Special acknowledgment - hpfan4evernow is my amazing Beta on this journey so she gets a wealth of credit for phrasing things just right and keeping my grammar from looking like a middle school student's. I am one very lucky girl to have her in my corner!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was thinking a few loyal people (who stuck with me the whole way during Knots) would enjoy a sequel...but, WOW, the reception for this story was well beyond my expectations. Thank you for the support and encouragement for this story and for all the birthday wishes. **

**I am trying to keep the chapters on the shorter side so this, and the next few chapters, are just setting the stage. Apologies if it lacks a lot of action.**

* * *

"It's not straight," Norman offered his unsolicited opinion.

Sig let out an exasperated sigh. With Edgar's full weight on his shoulders, the eldest brother lifted his head and gave his younger brother a scathing look. "It's fine, Norman."

"Naw, he's right," Edgar said, cocking his head wistfully to the side and observing the newly mounted angel on the top of the Christmas tree. Without warning his brother beneath him, he leaned over to adjust the white porcelain angel and almost collapsed into the blue spruce.

"Jesus," Sig exclaimed when he felt Edgar's weight shift. He barely had time to balance the both of them without letting his brother fall to the floor. "You gotta let me know what you're doing up there, kid," Sig exclaimed as he tightly wrapped his arms around Edgar's legs as they dangled on either side of him.

"Sorry," Edgar said, unable to stymie a giggle that pretty much negated the apology. Elated that his family was together again, he couldn't help but ruffle Sig's thick, blond hair and squeeze his knees into his oldest brother's armpits like he would guide a horse, "Could you move a little closer to the tree?"

Complying with the request, Sig moved closer to the tree so that Edgar could get everything 'just right.' The eldest brother could feel the happiness coursing through Edgar's entire body and he wondered if the excitement was being transmitted downward by osmosis and into his own.

"That's better," Norman said satisfied, and returned to sorting the box of Christmas tree decorations resting on the coffee table.

"Thank God," Sig gratefully murmured. As he knelt down to let Edgar get off his shoulders, he commented, "Edgar, I know you're all about traditions but I don't think we're gonna be able to hang the angel like this much longer. You're getting too big and my back can only take so much weight."

"He's a freaking string bean…100lbs soaking wet," Norman grumbled without looking up from the box, "Maybe you're just getting too OLD."

Sig made a face that his younger brother completely missed.

"He's not getting too old," Edgar said, coming to his oldest brother's defense, then giving Sig a hard look, "Although you do look a lot older with your beard."

"Well," Sig said slowly, leaning down to start the arduous process of untangling the string of lights, "If I would have had time this morning, I would have shaved it off. But…" he flashed Edgar a meaningful look, "…SOMEONE had to start decorating the tree the minute we woke up. Except we HAD to wait for someone else to get home," he added, glancing over at Norman, "So where were you so early this morning?"

Norman pretended not to hear the question.

"Paper route," Edgar cheerfully answered on Norman's behalf, "He was delivering newspapers."

Sig raised a curious eyebrow in Norman's direction.

Still, Norman focused on organizing the decorations according to size. _Heavy items for the bottom of the tree, smaller ones for the top….I know you're looking at me and YES, I am ignoring YOU_.

"What, get fired from the hardware store, little brother?" Sig pressed.

"No, he's still working there," Edgar eagerly replied, taking a string of lights and tossing the end onto the top of the tree, "He's even working more hours than before."

Norman suppressed a groan. _Little brothers! Always good for sharing your business with the world!_

"Really?" Sig said softly, "With all those AP classes this year…like Calculus and Physics…you're working two jobs? What on earth for? We have money for college and…"

"Look," Norman piped up, his voice booming with nervousness regarding the conversation, "Look at this." He held up a small, pink Christmas ball with the word 'Baby' and the year 1970 painted on the sides. "This was the first Christmas ornament Mom got for Edgar. She was really, really pregnant that Christmas. You remember that, Sig?"

"Yeah," Sig eyed the Christmas ball, "At the time, considering I was four-years-old and didn't know any better, I was hoping Santa Claus would leave the baby on Christmas Eve and take YOU back to the North Pole where you came from."

"No such luck," Norman smiled wickedly, "You think Mom thought Edgar was a girl?" He spun the ball in his hand, highlighting the pink metallic finish and laughing.

Edgar backed away from the tree and snatched the ball from Norman's palm, "Put this one back in the box. I always hated that decoration. Mom never hung it up because she knew I didn't like it."

"But she kept it," Norman crooned, watching Edgar bury the offending item alongside the sad collection of broken ornaments. Their mother didn't have the heart to throw away the damaged pieces. More than a few of the broken ornaments were the casualties of young boys disobeying their mother and roughhousing in front of the Christmas tree.

Now each broken piece brought on a sense of guilt and remorse for not minding their mother when they were little boys.

"Spent a lot of time looking at the corner on behalf of these," Sig peered over and observed the broken collection.

"We could glue some of these back together," Norman offered.

Sig gave him a weak smile, "They have been glued so much that they're probably toxic."

Just then, the door between the garage and the kitchen opened with a bang and a rush of frigid air seeped into the house. Sig felt his spine quiver and not from the drop in temperature.

Since waking up that morning, Sig suspected his father would be anxiously waiting for a full report on the trip. But, while Sig and Edgar slept, the Old Man had left with Daisy in the wee hours of the morning, out on some secret adventure, and had yet to return.

"Sigurd," a deep voice called from the kitchen, "Come help me with the groceries!"

Sig glanced at Norman, a silent plea of some kind or just a wish for sympathy, and got up from his tangled mess of knotted lights.

As Sig entered the kitchen, Daisy came bounding into the living room. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the now prominent fixture in the middle of her living room. The tree that had once been shoved in the corner was now front and center, next to the fireplace.

"You don't get to pee on this one, little girl," Norman laughed softly at the dog's reaction.

Edgar frowned, "She would never do that."

Instead, Daisy whimpered, turned tail and high-tailed it upstairs to sulk under the master bed.

"What's wrong, Daisy girl?" Edgar called after her, "It's just a tree." He made a step in the same direction to chase after her.

"Let her go, Edgar," Norman chided him gently, "She's just not used to it. Give her time."

"Maybe she's scared," Edgar said, his tone laced with worry.

Norman stood up and placed a kind hand on his youngest brother's shoulder. With a squeeze and then a gentle rub of Edgar's neck, he said, "She'll come back downstairs when she's ready. Obviously, she wants to be alone…probably to get away from US because she assumes we've gone crazy, bringing a 'squirrel condominium' into the house and decorating it with lights."

Unbeknownst to either brother, Daisy was in a full panic regarding the presence of the Christmas tree. As far as she was concerned, cold weather, snow and the damn tree were foreboding symbols of bad times to come.

Being a 'present' herself as a puppy, Daisy had no fondness for Christmas. The old home where she was as easily discarded as the torn wrapping paper was the only memories she had regarding the festive holiday. Although she desperately hoped things would be different in her new house, the symbols of the past were disturbingly haunting and cruelly eating at the young lab's confidence.

Back downstairs, after a confirming glance into the kitchen to find it empty, Norman pulled Edgar close and whispered in his ear. "Sig didn't have time this year to buy Christmas presents for everyone so please don't be disappointed if he didn't get you anything. It doesn't mean he doesn't love you. OK?"

Edgar leaned back and eyed his older brother with an appalled look, "I don't expect presents from anybody…not even Dad."

"Sure, kid," Norman sarcastically patted Edgar on the back, "You say that now but I know how crushed you'd be if you came downstairs Christmas morning only to find nothing under the tree except some fallen decorations."

"It's true," Edgar protested, "I'm not one of those spoiled kids from school who expect to get big, expensive gifts from their parents. I'm not hallow."

Norman smiled brightly, "I think you mean shallow…and I know you're not. I'm just saying…" he struggled for an adequate explanation, then threw up his hands, "…you know what, I don't know what I'm saying. I just don't want to see you let down this Christmas, I guess."

"I won't be," Edgar said, his voice trailing off as turned his attention back to stringing the lights. _Because I already know Dad got presents. I found them. The Old Man's hiding spots aren't as nearly as creative as Mom's used to be. And it's really too late to be let down anymore…without Mom, this Christmas, and all the ones after it, will always be missing something. But at least Sig is home and that means more than any stupid present_.

Norman knew his kid brother so well that he could almost read Edgar's mind. All four Hansen men secretly sensed this Christmas would be difficult, just as every holiday and birthday was difficult this year, this first year without HER. _And the 'big guns' are still left to come; Christmas, Edgar's 14__th__ birthday and finally, the anniversary of Mom's death. _

Shaking off the impending doom, Norman forced a wide grin on his handsome face and said cheerfully, "Let me help you with those lights."

* * *

Meanwhile, Sig aided his father with bringing in the brown paper grocery bags from the trunk of the Mustang.

"Damn lazy bastards," Dad was already complaining as tried to cart in two bags within his strong arms. The man was notorious for pushing his limits with heavy objects, almost like he was challenging some unknown force. "How damn hard it is to plow the streets after a snow storm? We shouldn't have to wait days to get our street cleared. I almost wiped out twice just getting out of our development."

"Maybe it would have been a better idea to take the truck," Sig blindly offered, completely forgetting that he was talking to his father and not to one of the older deckhands on the boat, "The Mustang isn't known for handling in the snow."

Sverre froze in the doorway between the garage and kitchen. He turned slowly and purposefully, bags in hand, and prevented his oldest son from getting back in the house with his middle-aged bulk and piercing blue eyes. "YOUR brother needed the truck to deliver newspapers. Did you think of that before you decided to pass judgment, boy?"

Sig was instantly contrite. His eyes couldn't find the floor fast enough and he pondered how his father managed to reduce him to feeling like a schoolboy with such lightning efficiency. "Sorry, sir, I forgot you sold your Chevy."

"Humph," Sverre grumbled, continuing on into the kitchen and putting the bags down with a thud, "I sold the Chevy just for extra money for Norman's college tuition…." Lowering his voice, he glanced in Sig's direction, "…but with the way Norman's working himself to death, you would think he had to pay the damn bills all by himself." Practically hissing with displeasure, Sverre asked, "What the hell has gotten into your brother? He's barely home anymore. He's either at school or working one of two jobs…or with that girlfriend of his."

"I've been wondering that myself," Sig's eye's trailed off into the living room, "Have you asked him what's going on?"

"And WHEN should I ask him, smarty britches…if he's never home?" Sverre snorted in frustration, "Edgar….Edgar, on the other hand, hardly ever leaves the house. He's a bright boy. I've seen how smart he is with his hands but, God help me, I just don't have to patience to deal with his schoolwork. I swear if it's written on paper, the boy just can't retain it…like in one ear and out the other." Sverre shook his balding head, "If that even makes sense."

Quietly, Sig assisted his father in putting away the groceries and realized HE was the one getting the 'full report' and not the other way around. Apparently Sig wasn't the only one who needed to unload some baggage.

"Your mother was the one who was good with school, homework and all that bullshit." Sverre commiserated, "I tried, Sigurd, heaven help me, I tried. But, I'm just a simple fisherman who, might I add, came to this country as a kid without knowing a lick of English. What the hell do I know about 8th grade poetry and the Boston Tea Party?

That shit was irrelevant when I went to school…hell, it's STILL irrelevant! Why can't they teach these kids how to read a God damn map and balance a check book…you know, shit they'll ACTUALLY need to survive?

Norman could be more of a help to Edgar than I ever could be," Sverre angrily emptied one of the grocery bags, slamming the Christmas pork roast onto the kitchen counter in the process, "If YOUR brother was ever home."

Sig watched the hunk of meat get unintentionally tenderized and inwardly mused how Norman went from 'my son' to 'your brother' when Dad was annoyed with him.

"I'm sure Norman has his reasons. Maybe we can get a tutor for Edgar," the eldest brother tried to defuse his father's frustration.

Peering into another bag and coming across the sheaf of wheat specially purchased for the Christmas season, Sig pulled it out for inspection. "You remembered the wheat for the birds," he pointed out the obvious.

"Did you leave your brain in Alaska, boy? Of course I did," Sverre glanced sideways towards his oldest son, "It's a Scandinavian tradition to leave the wheat out for the birds over Christmas. AND…" he drew out the words, "…before you even ask, YES, I got the ingredients to make the Risgrøt for Fjøsnissen. I just have to find your mother's recipe…wherever the hell she hid it."

Mildly stunned at his father's foresight, Sig forgot himself and mockingly asked, "Will we also have to sing På Låven Sitter Nissen for Julenisse before we get our presents, too?"

Within seconds, Sig suppressed a yelped and jutted forward as the side of his father's boot found his left butt cheek. "Ouch, Papa!" he ruefully rubbed at the sharp, unexpected pain.

"DON'T mock these things, Sigurd! The last thing we need in this house is to make the Nisse angry. They've been known to leave horrible curses on families who didn't make them happy," Sverre grumbled.

"Dad, they're imaginary elves," Sig grumbled back, losing his patience with being treated like a child. Thinking he'd just returned from captaining a half a million dollar boat only to get a boot to the backside and referred to as 'boy' was promptly putting Sig in a foul mood. "Hate to tell you this but they're not real. Mom was the one who always secretly ate the Risgrøt, not the Barn Elf who 'watches' (Sig literally made air quotes around the word) over our house."

"Oooha, you ARE tempting fate today," Sverre dramatically made the sign of the cross over his chest, "If these things weren't real, why do YOU knock on wood when you talk about the future?"

At his father's astute comparison, Sig felt a tinge of foreboding, a mysterious tingle that he just crossed an imaginary line with spirits unseen.

Not noticing his son's crestfallen expression, Sverre continued making his point, "And why do we NEVER leave port on a Friday? And why aren't bananas allowed on the boat? And why do we always bite the head off a herring before the first pot is dropped? And why do we…"

"…Christ, Dad, I get it. I'm sorry," Sig burst out. He wanted to stop talking about superstitions and bad luck, considering he may have just unintentionally angered a higher power.

The chattering background in the other room came to a frozen halt. Norman and Edgar heard their brother's shout from the kitchen and glanced at each other, both in disbelief that Sig raised his voice to their father.

Sverre's facial expression grew hard, his demeanor unreadable. Clearly, he was trying to rein in his temper. "Ain't me ya should be apologizing to," he finally spoke, focusing his attention back on the groceries.

Sig ran a nervous hand through his hair. Like his brothers, he couldn't believe he'd yelled at his father either. With an uneasy cough, he over-casually stated, "Well, snow crab season isn't until the end of January, four long weeks away. With any luck, the Nisse will forget by then."

"Bad things can happen just as easily on land as they can at sea, Sigurd," Sverre ominously declared, adding, "And no talk of Opie season until after the holiday."

"Why?" Sig rudely asked.

"Because Opies is a whole different ballgame then King Crab," Sverre gruffly blurted out. Significantly softer, he added, "And you just returned. Let's not talk about you leaving already." Uncharacteristically, Sverre reached a gnarled hand over to his oldest son and squeezed Sig's shoulder. "I'm glad you're home, son."

Sig met his father's eyes and saw that the Old Man meant exactly what he said. Sig's own blue eyes then trailed downward, shameful that he belittled his Dad when plainly the man was making every attempt to have a good Christmas for his family.

"Me, too, sir," Sig looked up over lowered lashes and offered a tender smile, "There were moments I didn't think I'd ever make it back…let alone on time for Christmas."

Sverre smiled knowingly, "I know exactly what you mean. The Bering Sea is nothing to be trifled with. But…" the Old Man clumsily slapped his son on the back, "…you survived your first season as co-Captain…as I knew you would."

"You want to hear about the trip, sir?" Sig asked eagerly.

Sverre turned his attention back to the groceries, "Another time. Go help your brothers with the tree. I can unpack the rest of the food."

Sig stared blankly at the back of his father's head. Since coming home, he'd been anticipating having this conversation with his father. Although the fishing trip was successful, Sig was sure his father would find ways to nitpick at his achievements. The man was notorious for being impossible to impress. Still, Sig held out hope that his Dad would eventually congratulate him and pat him on the back for a job well done.

In addition, the tall blond was savvy enough to know that nothing he told his father would come as a surprise. Certainly, his father had already scouted out a full report from Captain Solly, the man who had co-Captained the Northwestern with Sig on his maiden voyage. Despite being confident Solly would paint him in a favorable light, Sig nevertheless sought the opportunity to tell his side of the story and defend any decisions he rendered.

Now, caught off guard, Sig was hurt by his father's dismissive reaction. In his mind, hearing his full report about the trip should have been the first thing on the Old Man's agenda…_if he cared to hear MY side of the story._

The Old Man could feel his son's eyes on his back but he refused to turn around, not quite ready for this conversation. All that had transpired during the King Crab season on the f/v Northwestern had already reached Sverre's keen ears. Direct from the 'sewing circles' at Cozy's bar and from his fellow captains still fishing the Bering Sea, Sverre had heard nothing but praise regarding his oldest's prowess on the high seas.

And, being brutally honest, Sverre didn't know how he felt about Sig's success. Undoubtedly, he was truly happy for his son. He wished him only the best and was deeply proud of his accomplishments. And. of course, a successful season meant more bread on the table and more security for the future of the family business.

But the ease of the transition to the next generation of Hansens left Sverre feeling downright obsolete. Still a man in his middle years, albeit later middle years, the Old Captain didn't feel ready to be put out to pasture.

At first, the break away from the sea had been relaxing and refreshing but, as time went on, the Old Man felt like something else was missing from his life besides his beloved wife. In a way, it didn't seem fair to him that he had to give up his love of the sea because God took his love on the land. It was a double loss, plain and simple.

Perhaps that dual misery was what drove him into the arms of another woman after 20 plus years of marriage. The Captain still felt wretched that he had been intimate with another woman he'd only recently met. Yet, he was attracted to her sweet personality, the similar lonely air of 'widowhood' and, to be frank, the man had carnal needs that hadn't been met in close to a year.

Still, Sverre had a nagging feeling that he had been, in some way, disloyal to his wife. Consequently, the Old Man felt the same way about the Northwestern. His other 'girl' had been left in the hands of a virtual teenager, a virgin to the Bering Sea who was bound to fumble his way through his first experience.

So, if Sig had called and cried about the difficulties of being a fishing boat captain and making a mistake by ever thinking this was his chosen calling, Sverre would have still grumbled about having to take over the boat again. It was just that the grumbling would have been purely for show.

But, the fact of the matter was that Sig didn't call home, crying and whimpering at the first big storm or the first stretch of empty pots. The modern Viking had proved that the sea was in his blood, hauling pots that were overflowing with big, juicy King Crab and guiding the ship home in hurricane-force winds. The young Captain even had to deal with an injured deckhand but Sig had handled the situation like he'd been doing it all his life, stitching the guy up and then pitching in to get the job done on deck.

All this success left Sverre with a surprising, uneasy feeling towards his son; jealousy.

Jealous, disloyal, insignificant; these were foreign feelings for Sverre, leaving him with guilt and disgust in himself. With conflicted emotions, he hoped to avoid the topic of fishing altogether, at least until after Christmas.

Confused and dismissed, Sig slumped back into the living room and watched the tree decorating process with deflated interested.

"You OK?" Norman silently mouthed to his brother.

Sig nodded, shrugging his shoulders as if to brush off the icky feelings.

"You yelled at Dad!" Edgar whispered, peeking around the tree with his green eyes wide as saucers.

Sig sighed. "I don't know what happened, Edgar. I just lost my mind for a minute."

"Dad usually yells more when he just comes home from a fishing trip," Norman quickly dispensed his logical explanation, "After months of being around guys who do nothing but yell and cuss, it takes time to adjust back to civilization."

Edgar cocked his head like Daisy, trying to understand what Norman was saying. As if he finally got it, he nodded his head once and seemed appeased with the explanation. Going back to the tree, the kid's focus was again on the Christmas season.

Norman, on the other hand, noticed Edgar's distraction and glanced in Sig's direction. He tipped his head to his older brother as if to say 'I can see the disappointment written all over your face and I'm here for you when you need me.'

Sig smiled back his appreciation of the empathetic gesture.

Suddenly, Edgar piped up, "Hey, did anyone get anything for Dad for Christmas?" Remembering Norman's earlier words about Sig's inability to purchase gifts, his green eyes drifted over to Norman.

Sig also ended up staring at his younger brother for an answer, especially considering the tough guy worked at a hardware store, the manliness of retail locations.

All they got was a resigned sigh and "Shit, I forgot."

A half hour later, the three Hansen brothers were in the truck, traversing their way through the snow-covered streets to the hardware store.

* * *

On the ride over, Edgar sat in between his brothers and stared at Sig's hands as they firmly gripped the steering wheel.

The oldest brother's right ring finger was still unadorned. This absence made sense considering Edgar was still wearing Sig's ring.

In the excitement of decorating the tree, Edgar had failed to return the ring to its rightful owner. Considering Sig had yet to ask for it back, the young teen worried that perhaps his brother had forgotten about the treasured item now that he was what Edgar considered a full-fledged grown-up with the big, important title of Captain.

In fact, the ring and Edgar's accomplishment of keeping it safe were the last things on Sig's racing mind.

During the quiet drive, Sig mentally chewed over the conversation with his father. Foremost, he wanted to get to the bottom of Norman's apparent need for money but he doubted he'd get any illumination on the issue as long as Edgar was within earshot. Secondly, the oldest brother was tormented over his father's lack of interest in the fishing season. Finally, the superstitious eighteen-year-old was mentally kicking himself for mocking the protective Norwegian spirits of the holiday season and praying he hadn't ignorantly nominated himself or his family for some unsightly tragedy.

"What's that old story about Fjøsnissen again?" he finally asked his brothers, breaking the silence in the truck.

Norman raised an eyebrow and glanced at the driver's side, "The Barn Elf? Come on, Sig, you should know that one by heart."

"I know, I know," Sig flicked his hand, "Just…remind me."

Edgar was more than happy to remind his brother. "Fjøsnissen is one of the Nisse. The Nisse are known to be very shy. That's why no one ever sees them. They live in the barn and help the farmers, bringing good fortune to the crops and good health to the farm animals. But..." Edgar dramatically paused, "…if you make them mad, they will do mischief to your family and livestock."

"And so the story goes," Norman continued, "On Christmas Eve, rice porridge…the Nisses's favorite treat…is left out overnight as a tribute for all their good deeds."

"But, one time," Edgar eagerly told the tale, "A Nisse thought the farmer forgot to leave a dab of butter in his porridge. So, he killed the farmer's best milking cow only to find out later that the butter had melted to the bottom of the bowl."

Wishing he hadn't asked, Sig groaned inwardly, "So they are spiteful little creatures, you think?"

"Sig, it's just folklore from the old country," Norman stated, "We don't own a barn and we don't have any livestock. What does it matter?"

"They why did Mom always make rice porridge and leave it out on the kitchen table every Christmas Eve?" Edgar innocently asked.

Edgar's question hung suspended in the stuffy air of the truck, the vents pumping in heat against the winter wind outside. Neither older brother immediately ventured to answer the question.

Finally, Sig provided the answer. "Because it's better to be safe than sorry." And sorry was exactly how Sig hoped he didn't spend his vacation.

* * *

"Today's your day off," Aaron exclaimed as Norman entered the store, his brothers in his wake, 'What are you doin' here?"

"Shopping," Norman shook his head shamefully at his friend and co-worker, "All the freaking hours I've spent here you would think I would have remembered to get my father something for Christmas."

"Maybe you've got other things on your mind," Aaron flashed Norman a fleeting but telling look. _And I know why! Poor guy!_

Norman's eyes narrowed and he responded to Aaron's look by exaggeratedly clamping his lips closed in a desperate gesture. _SHUT UP!_

Alerted, Sig caught the exchange at the last second before the hardware clerk turned to ring out another customer.

The meaningful look between his brother and his brother's friend spoke volumes. Norman had shared something confidential with Aaron that he had yet to share with his family.

For whatever reason, this information irritated Sig more than anything else that morning. If Sig was honest with himself, as his own father had been, he would have realized the reason for his irritation; jealousy.

"What'cha wanna get Dad?" Edgar asked, coming in the store last and pulling Sig's attention away from Norman. "He's already got lots of tools and stuff."

"A man can never have enough tools," Harry intervened, seemingly coming from nowhere, "Sigurd, good to see you back on land."

"Thank you, sir," Sig respectfully shook the older gentleman's outstretched hand.

Harry's twin brother, Henry, also expressed his congratulations on the successful season, "Your father is so proud of you."

_Not that I would know!_ "I guess he is," Sig whispered.

"I didn't expect to see you two here," Norman, sensing Sig was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, quipped to the senior citizens, "It's not Monday. Where's the rest of the troop?"

"Off vacationing with family," Henry explained, "And, lucky me, I'm stuck home with a broken boiler. Harry and me…we're gonna try to fix it ourselves. Damn repairmen, charging an arm and a leg…"

Edgar had stopped listening, finding the conversation a bore and the hardware store so very intoxicating. He did hear bits and pieces of his brothers' polite exchanges with the retired fishermen, such as 'why does the heater never break in the summer' and 'call me if you need help, it can be dangerous work.'

It was all such an innocent exchange that Sig never saw the first disaster coming.

"So, Alma's still in town for the holiday," Harry mentioned, "But I guess your father must already know that."

"Who's Alma?" Edgar asked absentmindedly, playing with one of the heavy wrenches for sale. He'd never heard the name before so it caught his attention.

Sig and Norman went white about the lips and started sputtering, opening their mouths only to get choked by their own spit.

Unfortunately, they were too late and the retired fishermen spent too long at sea to understand the finesse of social tact. Had their wives been there, they would have gotten a gentle scolding for blurting out simultaneously, "The lovely lady your father's been seeing."

With agonizing slowness, the kid craned his neck and stared at the old men like they just grew wings and had snakes coming out of their fingertips. Then, he laughed nervously, "That's ridiculous. My Dad's not seeing anyone."

But, a little voice inside Edgar's head told him that the news made perfect sense. It explained Dad's mysterious absences and the expertly wrapped Christmas presents he already found hidden in the basement closet while he was cleaning (aka: snooping) around the house. _Dad doesn't have the first idea on how to wrap presents and he sure as hell wasn't going to pay someone at the mall to wrap them. So who did I think wrapped them…the Nisse?_

Still, denial is not just a river in Egypt. "Right?" the kid faced his older brothers, the guys he trusted more than anyone else in his life, "Dad's not seeing anyone."

The normally perceptive kid was in a quandary. It was seemingly impossible that he could miss something so big, so monumental. Yet, it was easy to miss something so big when, in his mind, it was inconceivable…_like a fire-breathing dragon or a pink elephant…or a Barn Elf. _

"Ummm…ahha….um," Norman swayed on his heels, unable to look at the disbelief on his kid brother's face.

His older brother's reaction was not what the young teen had hoped for.

"You knew?" Edgar asked with a hurt, accusatory tone when the realization hit, "You knew about this and you didn't tell me?"

Harry and Henry awkwardly disengaged themselves from the little family, realizing too late their mistake.

"Edgar," Sig started softly, "Let's talk about this when we get out of here."

The lack of shock on Sig's face also confirmed to Edgar that this was NOT news to Sig either.

"You knew, too?" Edgar pounced on his oldest brother, "You've only been home 12 hours and you already know. And, yet, no one bothered to tell ME? For HOW long?"

"Edgar," Sig spoke to his little brother as if he was speaking to a suicidal person ready to jump off a cliff, "Come on….not here."

Pissed off for being the last one in on the secret yet again, Edgar lost his own Norwegian temper. "Fuck you guys!" he hissed, slamming down the wrench in his hand and storming out of the store.

"Edgar! Wait!" Norman called, chasing after his brother as the kid headed back to the truck.

Sig was left to buy a new bit set for the power drill, all the while wondering if this was just the start of Fjøsnissen's revenge on his Christmas holiday.

~tbc

****Special thanks to my Beta who worked on this chapter while she was sick. Please wish her better health.****


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, I promised I'd try for bi-weekly updates...so after a month's wait, all I can say is oops and I'll keep trying. Anyway, Happy Memorial Day weekend to my fellow Americans, especially those that have and continue to protect and defend our country.**

* * *

Leaving the hardware store, Sig took shelter under the shopping mall's awning for what he figured would be his last quiet moment of peace. As he lit his cigarette, his eyes scanned over to the parking lot and found the pick-up truck's front seat occupied by his younger brothers.

Through the large, slanted windshield, Sig could make out both Norman and Edgar's upper bodies. Although the oldest brother couldn't make out a word they were saying, their non-verbal body language told him everything he needed to know about the progress of their conversation.

Norman, broad, muscular and taking up half the front seat, was gesturing wildly, tossing his hands up occasionally and seemingly pleading for reasoning.

In direct contrast, Edgar, sinewy, lanky and taking up as little space as possible, stoically huddled next to the passenger's door. With his arms crossed defensively over his chest, he stared silently out the side window and ignored his vocal brother. The only movement Edgar made was to randomly reach up and rub his left cheek in an anxious motion.

Feeling terrible about seeing his younger brothers argue, Sig looked away, taking a drag and exhaling into the cold, winter air.

Honestly, he understood exactly how Edgar felt being left out on the 'Big Secret.'

As a matter of serendipity, that particular feeling was poignantly fresh for the eldest brother. Norman was hiding something ELSE from his family that had nothing to do with a lady named Alma. Whatever was going on with Norm, it was dire enough to hide it from the people he loved and that fact scared Sig to death.

Yet, as rotten as he felt for Edgar, Sig was on Norman's side on this one argument. Dad's private life was just that…private. When the Old Man felt it was time to share his romantic life with his teenage sons, then he would do so on his own terms. Until then, Sig would assume whatever his father's relationship was with this woman Alma was inconsequential.

Now, the trick was to convince Edgar of that without looking like his older brothers were ganging up against him.

Glancing back, the scene in the truck was starting to look very one-sided and Sig knew he should jump in to help Norman's case. Knowing all too well how easily Edgar could shut down when he was upset, Sig figured Norman could use all the help he could get.

But just as Sig was about to flick his cigarette away, the door to the adjoining coffee shop opened and out stepped a familiar blond woman.

With her were several of her law enforcement officers, all dressed in uniform and laughing about which poor suckers got stuck working Christmas Day.

Sig's old flame looked just as good as the day he met her, perhaps better. Her long hair now cut smartly around her face in long layers. She still filled out the uniform like it was painted on her. Her tinkling laughter caused a stir inside Sig that he hadn't felt in over four months at sea.

Without thinking, Sig pulled back into the shadows and held his breath.

For some inexplicable reason, he prayed the lady cop didn't spot him, especially now that he was so obviously trying to avoid her. Cursing at himself for being a coward, he watched Patricia stop and pause before taking a step in either direction.

Praying and cursing in tandem, the modern Viking felt a lot more like a mouse than someone from a strong, Scandinavian heritage. _God, turn left and keep going…Please fucking go left!_

Thankfully, the police cruiser was parked around the left side of the coffee shop, away from the hardware store, and the lovely blond and her partners disappeared out of view a moment later.

Releasing a massive sigh of relief, Sig looked up and, to his sheer humiliation, found both his younger brothers now gawking at him from inside the truck. The argument between Norm and Ed had been put on hiatus so they could have front row seats to their strappingly strong, 'I'm an adult now' oldest brother spinelessly hiding from a woman.

Norman and Edgar both gave Sig a strange and questioning glance as if to say 'What a wuss' in unison.

Grimacing about getting caught, Sig cussed under his breath, flicked his cigarette and walked towards the truck. The drill bit set for his father was safely tucked inside his jacket pocket. He climbed inside the driver's seat and waited for the inevitable grilling.

He didn't have long to wait.

"Why didn't you say anything to her?" Norman asked, coming straight to the point, "Maybe she'd be happy to know you're home."

Running a hand through his hair and then down to his scruffy face, the blond man came up with a legitimate excuse. "What, looking like this?" he gestured to his week-old beard, "I look like a Neanderthal."

Norman rolled his eyes and said flatly, "I really don't think she would have cared, dude. She knew you were out at sea, not at some Caribbean resort."

"Seems like a stupid reason," Edgar grumbled under his breath but loud enough for both of his brothers to hear. Arms still crossed over his chest, he made it known that he was still in a snit.

Sig sighed, defeated. The beard wasn't the main reason why he didn't acknowledge his ex, although it was a small part of it.

As with most relationships that end awkwardly, the awkwardness only compounds on the next chance encounter with each other. _What do I say? What can I say? I started to fall in love with you and I didn't want my feelings getting in the way of my career goals? So I just stopped making the effort to get together with you, hoping you'd get the message. Jesus, my brothers are right…I am a wuss!_

"Well," Sig tried to regain his composure, "Whatever, it's over."

"It's a small world, Sig," Norman said conceitedly, both eyebrows raised in a smug fashion, "I wouldn't be surprised if you two crossed paths again someday."

"Probably because I'll be bailing your ass out of jail," Sig protested, not caring for Norman's arrogance.

Sarcastically, Norman chuckled, sensing his comment got under his older brother's skin and gaining a small amount of satisfaction. _Maybe Sig just needs a kick in the ass to remind him that he still has a life beyond that damn boat._ For good measure, he added, "If you hadn't been smoking…"

Edgar snorted, an unreadable noise that could have meant he was either amused about the conversation or just letting his brothers know he was still pissed off at them.

Annoyed with Norman's attitude, Sig let his feelings get the better of him. Otherwise he would never had said, "I got a drill bit set for Dad. Aaron, your co-worker, was exceptionally helpful, Norman. He even let me use your employee discount. Seems like a great guy. I didn't know you two were so…close."

Norman's smug smile waned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked in a cold voice.

"Nothing," Sig said haughtily, "Just saying."

Of course, Sig wasn't 'just saying.' He was referring to whatever secret Norman was carrying that Aaron also happened to know about.

"That's why we came here, dipshit" Norman blurted out, irritated at Sig's insinuation, "So we could get a discount on Dad's Christmas gift. I'm sure…" he turned to stare at the back of Edgar's head, "…if WE hadn't run out of the store, I would have gotten a chance to use it myself."

Both older brothers grew silent, waiting for Edgar to take the bait. Unfortunately, Edgar continued to stare out the side window and pretend his brothers didn't exist.

"Edgar?" Sig said, softening his voice to a whisper.

Yet, the truck remained eerily silent.

"Alright," Sig slammed the keys down on the dashboard, "Let's get this out in the open before we go home. Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I didn't spend three days in an airport…just to get here in time for it…only to have someone ignore me."

Although he didn't respond or acknowledge his brother, Edgar's rigid posture relaxed ever so slightly. The timely reminder of his brother's absence over the last four months tempered some of Edgar's anger but he was still right pissed.

The middle brother, ironically trapped in the middle of the front seat, tried again to reason with the surly teenager. "Edgar, seriously, I am sorry you found out this way about Dad and…Alma…" he nervously turned to Sig as he muttered the foreign name with uncertainty.

It seemed just saying another woman's name in connection with their father was some kind of slight against their mother.

With Sig's look of reassurance, Norman turned back to Edgar, "…but I swear to God I wasn't trying to hide anything from you."

"Like hell you weren't," Edgar fired back, barely turning his head to catch Norman's eye.

"Edgar!" Sig said quickly, admonishing his little brother immediately.

"Well, you WERE!" Edgar said forcefully, directing his attention to Norman, "You were hiding this from me. Otherwise, you would have told me! Hell, you found time to warn Sig fast enough," the young teen casually flung a hand in the direction of the driver's side, "And he's only been home for, like, twelve hours or something!"

"Norman wasn't trying to hurt you," Sig explained quickly, "In fact, he was trying to protect you…"

Wrong words. The kid shut down again, turning his body and his gaze towards the side window. At the moment, Edgar was all but done with being protected by his big brothers.

Being protected meant that he was still a little kid, the same little kid that got in such deep trouble with hoodlums, drug dealers and gangsters over the summer.

Well, those unfortunate incidents were months and months ago, light-years in teenage time. In Edgar's mind, he was now a few weeks shy of fourteen and fourteen felt and sounded a hell of a lot older than thirteen. He just wished his older brothers could feel the difference, too.

Accepting that he'd gotten off on the wrong foot, Sig continued on the path with a sturdy sense of commitment. Perhaps he could turn the corner at some point later. "As I was saying," he said coolly, "Norman… and me, too, I guess…were trying to protect you from something that might not have even been true."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, kid," Norman said, interrupting, "This shit about Dad has been circulating around town for weeks. But I only heard rumors…local gossip, really…that Dad was seeing some woman. Hell, for all we know, those old guys could just be repeating something they overheard at the bar; something totally fabricated from some drunken barfly."

"You still shoulda warned me," Edgar said defensively, using his finger to make swirls on the fog that had settled on the inside of the glass window. The glossy frost was no doubt from their combined hot breath. As he used his finger to make the designs, he watched Sig's ring glisten in the daylight with each movement. "You shoulda told me," he repeated softly.

Norman opened his mouth to speak, only to exhale and slide down in his seat. The kid had a valid point.

"Nobody intended for this to happen, little brother," Sig crooned softly, leaning forward and resting his left temple against the steering wheel.

"I…I don't know…Edgar…maybe I screwed up," Norman suddenly muttered, just wanting this situation to go away, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should have given you a head's up because I sure as hell didn't want you finding out THIS way. But…" he sat up straight, defending his decision, "…I didn't know how you would react and…I didn't want you getting mad at Dad over something that might actually be nothing."

"And even if it is true," Sig eyed Norman briefly, acknowledging that they both knew it was very likely true, "It's Dad's personal business. If he wants us to know about her, he'll tell us. Until then, whatever…or whoever…this lady is to him, she must not be that important."

Finally, Edgar turned to face his brothers. With a perplexed look, he questioned, "Why would you think I'd be mad at Dad?"

"Well…" Norman paused, "…aren't you?"

Edgar actually had to stop and think about the question. In truth, he really didn't know how he felt about his father seeing another woman. All he could feel at the moment was anger and rejection that his older brothers were keeping things from him…again!

As he could see his brothers were waiting for an answer, Edgar turned away and shrugged, "I don't know. I guess I never thought about it."

"I did," Sig whispered, hugging the steering wheel and wishing his kid brother would look at him.

Fortunately, Sig got his wish. Edgar turned and settled back in the seat of the truck, facing forward. Tentatively, the kid asked, "So you knew this was going to happen?"

Sig forced a small smile in Edgar's direction. "No," he said quietly, shaking his head, "Not exactly. But the thought had crossed my mind once or twice this past summer. I mean, Dad's a grown man, you know. He's used to….ummm….how do I say this…"

"Oh, God, don't freaking say it," Norman wiggled uncomfortably, "Just don't say it…please!"

Sig sighed, coming up with an appropriate and polite expression, "…regular lovemaking….with a woman."

Norman groaned loudly, slapping his hand against his forehead, "Oh why…why'd you have to go and say it?"

"Well, how else do you want me to put it?" Sig mildly confronted their grossed out brother, "The man's been married for twenty freaking years. Then Mom died and, at least how I figure it, it's been close to a year that he's…well…" he swallowed nervously, "…had sex."

"Oh man, that's even worse," Norman whimpered like a child.

"Will you stop it!" Sig slapped Norman on his meaty thigh, "You're acting like Dad during one of his 'wear a condom' speeches. I thought you were all cool when it came to our little brother and the topic of sex."

"NOT when it comes to talking about your parents having sex!" Norman exclaimed, "Nobody…and I mean nobody…wants to think about their parents bumping uglies. God," he shook his whole body, "just talking about this gives me the willies."

Disappointedly, Sig shook his head and rolled his eyes over his younger brother's antics.

Quietly, Edgar piped up, "So…" he seemed to be forming the thoughts in his mind, "…are you saying that Dad is just seeing this woman…just because he's…horny?"

Norman slumped down in his seat and turned a pale shade of green over Edgar's choice of adjective. It was a convenient position for Sig because he could lean back and look over Norman's head to Edgar.

With a tender sigh, Sig kept an open expression. Simplistically, he answered Edgar's question, "No, I don't think that's the only reason. Dad isn't that kind of man. But I do think that, at times, he's probably lonely. And who can blame him?" Softly, he continued, mindful of Edgar's demeanor, "I mean, in a few years once we're all out of the house, who's gonna keep Dad company? Daisy? The guys from the bar? The retired fishermen's club? They're all great but…would you share your inner most secrets with the crew at Cozy's bar?"

Edgar gave his brother a weak, half-hearted smile. "No."

"So, Dad has sought the company of someone with a little more class," Sig surmised, "At least, I'm assuming this woman is a classy lady because I couldn't imagine Dad being interested in a floosy."

Edgar contorted his baby-faced features, "What the heck is a floosy?"

Norman cleared his throat, "Let's just say it's an older woman who should have given up street-walking years ago."

"That's a crude way of putting it, Norm," Sig said, "But, generally, correct."

"I don't think she's like that," Edgar muttered guiltily.

"How would you know?" Norman asked, "You just found out about her."

"Just a guess," the kid answered, thinking of the perfectly wrapped Christmas presents stored in the basement. _Anybody who took the time to wrap presents with handmade bows and curly-coo ribbons would care enough about themselves not to be considered a floosy._

"Well, floosy or not, I'm not sure I even want to know all this crap about Dad," Norman grumbled, "What the man does with his free time is his business."

"But…" Edgar started, then paused and bit his lip, "…what if she doesn't end up as just Dad's free time. I mean, what if…he brings her home? What then? Will she come and live with us? Will they get married?"

The questions, albeit legitimate ones, didn't have definitive or immediate answers and all three Hansen sons were left thinking about the real and frightening possibility of having a step-mother in their future.

After several long minutes of deep thought, Sig finally spoke up and tried to find some humor in the situation. "Let's take it one day at a time, OK, kid? Dad's never done anything impulsively so I don't think we need to worry about him running off to Las Vegas and getting married without telling us."

Edgar giggled a little.

Norman's reaction, on the other hand, was to avoid eye contact with his brothers by pretending to play with his class ring. It was a strange response to Sig's joke, almost as if his older brother had unknowingly stumbled upon a sensitive issue.

Sig had played with his ring enough during times of unease that he immediately felt the pin-prickles go up and down his spine.

Instantly dismissing the preposterous suspicion, Sig soothed himself into believing Norman was just nervous about Dad possibly getting re-married someday. Because to believe otherwise was utterly ludicrous; why on Earth would Norman, seventeen-years-old and on the verge of graduating, have any worries about a runaway marriage?

"I'm still mad at you guys," Edgar deliberately reminded his brothers, who were now seemingly distracted by something else. _ OK, not mad, really. Just annoyed, but they don't have to know that_. "I'm not a little kid anymore…"

Sig raised a discrete eyebrow at that declaration.

"…but you still treat me like one," the almost fourteen-year old emphatically stated, "You can't protect me from the bad stuff all my life."

"I beg to differ," Sig quipped without hesitation and with total confidence.

'Roger that," Norman inserted his opinion with the basic, nautical phrase for 'the Captain is correct.'

Edgar literally huffed, dramatically crossing his arms over his chest in the brattiest of fashions. "I'm sick of having older brothers," he grumbled under his breath.

Sig could only smile at that comment. "Even if those same older brothers take you ice skating this afternoon?" he pacifyingly asked.

"And then to the movies tonight?" Norman added.

"WITH your own big bucket of popcorn and an extra-large, blue Icee?" Sig asked in a sugary-sweet tone.

"I can't be bought off with popcorn," Edgar said, turning his hips so he was as far away from Norman as possible. Yet, once they registered in his brain, the kid realized just how enticing all the offers sounded.

Considering they knew the kid since the day he was born, sometimes even better than himself, Norman and Sig wisely kept quiet and patiently waited.

Edgar mused over his options. He could hold a grudge and be miserable all day. Or he could have a fun day with his brothers, which considering Sig's long absence and Norman's work schedule, hadn't happened in months.

Ice skating appealed to the adventurous kid. It had been a long time since he strapped on a pair of skates. And, Matt had been bragging for weeks now about how funny the new Eddie Murphy movie was. It would be nice to rub it back in his face that Edgar saw the movie, too.

Perhaps, his temper cooling, Edgar could drop this issue until after the Christmas holiday, putting it on the back burner for later discussion. "With extra butter?" he asked with feigned disinterest.

"Pour the liquid fat on until your little heart's content," Norman smiled broadly.

Grudgingly, Edgar muttered, "Fine."

Sig wasn't about to let it go that easily. "Fine, what?"

Edgar rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Fine, let's go ice skating."

"Could you sound a little less enthusiastic, kid?" Sig sarcastically asked.

"So," Norman turned to Edgar and asked painstakingly slow, "Does that mean you forgive me?"

All the middle brother got was a half-snort, half-grunt response.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Norman nodded, satisfied.

With his emotions leveling out, Edgar started to feel the icy draft seeping into the truck. The boys had been sitting in the parking lot for a while now, the truck off the entire time.

Edgar's teeth chattered slightly. He pulled his jacket tight around his lanky frame.

"Cold?" Sig asked quietly.

Edgar gave a noncommittal shrug, not wanting to be the only one complaining of the cold. Of course, his brothers had a lot more natural insulation with their furry faces and hairy chests. But Edgar remained quiet; no guy ever wants to be the first to complain about the elements.

Grabbing the keys off the dashboard, Sig started up the truck and put the vehicle in reserve. As he shifted into drive, he turned on the heat and casually offered his advice, "I think we should pretend we don't know about Alma…with Dad, I mean. I can guarantee the Old Man won't like us knowing about her until HE's ready to tell us. Agreed?"

"Forgotten her name already," Norman said absentmindedly.

"Edgar?" Sig hesitantly asked for confirmation.

Edgar paused dramatically. He really wanted to talk to his father about this other woman. He wanted to know just how serious the relationship was and if his father ever intended to get remarried. It didn't seem fair having to wait, especially since he, as the youngest, had the most at stake in this situation.

But, if Edgar could rely on one thing in this world, it was that he could trust his oldest brother's judgment. When had Sig ever steered him wrong? "Alma who?" the kid finally uttered, ready to let the topic go on the back burner, right next to the simmering pot labeled 'Edgar's not a little kid anymore.'

Sig smiled with contentment.

The Nisse, those naughty little barn elves, took note of the blond Vikings happiness and laughed wickedly.

And, somewhere in Heaven, an angel started mounting a counter-attack.

Meanwhile, as the fates plotted and planned the future, the temperature in Seattle, Washington grew colder. Along with the cold, the Hansen's 'kitchen stove' was getting crowded and only starting to heat up for the winter.

* * *

"Here, make yourself useful," Sig said as he sauntered into Norman's room and shut the door. He tossed the drill bit set onto Norman's bed along with a pair of scissors and scotch tape. The roll of red Christmas paper tucked under his arm he cheekily threw at his brother.

Norman, who was spreading out on the floor and in the middle of his daily 100 sit-ups, had to roll to his left to avoid getting hit by the roll of Christmas wrapping paper. "Jerk," he muttered under his breath, although adding a small laugh at the end of the word. "Where's Dad?"

"Downstairs watching the Sunday Night Game with Edgar and Daisy," Sig said casually, taking a seat on the floor. "Seahawks are winning by two touchdowns with five to go in the 4th quarter. It's basically over." He leaned his back against the side of Norman's bed and stretched out his long legs.

Norman got to his knees and crawled over to the laundry hamper in the corner of his room. "That would explain why you're up here bugging me and not downstairs watching the game," he stated as he opened the lid to the hamper and started rummaging through the dirty laundry, "I'm guessing you don't get to watch too much football in the middle of the Bering Sea."

"And, God, did I miss it," Sig said wistfully, "I missed just sitting down with a Coke and a big bag of chips, spending a Sunday afternoon in front of the TV, watching every game."

"So why didn't you?" Norman turned in mid-search and asked regretfully, "It was your first chance to do that today. You could have spent the whole day just loafing on the sofa, catching up on all the highlights. We could have gone skating and to the movies any night this week. It didn't have to be today."

For a moment, Sig stared expressionlessly at his younger brother. Then, he smiled, a slowly-forming, waxing smile at reached all the way up to his bright, blue eyes. "Because," he elongated his leg and pushed Norman's side playfully with his bare foot, "I missed something else a million times more than TV or football while I was gone."

Norman looked at his brother and then closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgement of his importance in Sig's life. "The kid had a good day," he said, going back to his rummaging and deflecting the conversation a bit. His head almost in the hamper, Norman amended the statement, "A great day."

"Me, too. The movie was hysterical. I thought Edgar was gonna wet his pants at one point," Sig said, waiting for a response. When it seemed Norman was either not listening or otherwise preoccupied, he asked, "What the hell are you looking for?"

"Since we're having a wrapping party…" Norman said, unable to hide the little bit of excitement in his voice. He pulled out an extra-large, white shirt box from the bottom of his hamper and set it down on the floor between him and Sig. "Little brat. He thinks I don't know he still snoops around trying to find his Christmas presents. Better not let Dad catch him pulling that shit. Of course," he said confidently, "I can still outmaneuver him with one hand tied behind my back. Nobody wants to root through someone else's dirty underwear."

Sig sat up, folding his legs like a pretzel, and stared at the large cardboard box resting on the floor. His curiosity was peeked. "What is it?"

With dramatic flare, Norman slowly lifted the lid from the box.

"Oh, Norman," Sig sighed, a flood of memories, some good, some not so good, hitting him like one of those rogue waves only crabbers knew existed. "It's…it's beautiful."

Reverently, Norman lifted the brand-new, leather Motocross jacket out of the box. "He had to borrow a friend's jacket this season. Not that I'm as superstitious as you, Edgar and the Old Man but…I think maybe that's why the kid had such a mediocre season this fall – he lost his lucky charm when the old jacket got…left behind." _Not having Mom cheering like a lunatic from the stands probably played a bigger role in Edgar's subpar season but that goes without saying_.

Sig knew exactly what Norman was thinking. It wasn't all about the jacket. But not having the jacket Mom bought him was like salt on a festering wound. _Believe me, if Edgar hadn't been bleeding and unconscious in my arms that night, I would have made the effort to go back and get his beloved jacket before it disappeared forever._ "Why didn't he ask Dad to get him another one?" Sig asked, reaching out and touching one of the shiny leather sleeves.

"I don't think…" Norman turned the green and black jacket around to show the word 'Hansen' embroidered across the shoulders in black and silver thread, "…he knew how to explain to Dad how he lost the first jacket. Too many bad memories, I guess." Adding a shrug, Norman couldn't blame the kid for not wanting to remember all that he lost in that wretched place.

Norman laid the jacket back down in the box, leaving the word 'Hansen' showing face up.

Sig reached out and let the palm of his hand graze over the lettering. The old jacket didn't have this added touch. Something about seeing their family name displayed so proudly gave Sig a strange and sudden attachment to the item. Undoubtedly, Edgar would feel the same. "It's a very thoughtful gift, Norm. You outdid yourself. Must have cost a fortune."

"Naw," Norman brushed off the expense. In his mind, Edgar was worth that and a lot more. "I had it paid off in under a month."

A thought dawned on Sig just then, causing him to regret his earlier suspicions about Norman's secretive behaviors.

"Is this why you've been working two jobs?" Sig asked, hopeful that this Christmas present would explain Norman's intense need for money, "To pay for this? You should've told me. I would have sent you more money."

The tender sympathy in Sig's voice caused Norman to blush with shame. Hastily, he folded the tissue paper back over the jacket and replaced the cardboard box lid. "Sorta," was the vague answer the middle brother gave back, now hyper-focused on retrieving the wrapping paper.

Suddenly intent on wrapping, Norman's actions became a flurry of movement.

Sig retreated into the silence of an observant bystander, watching Norman wrap and all the while wondering what was bothering his younger brother.

After a few minutes where neither one of them spoke, Sig broke the silence.

"Is she pregnant?" was all he asked.

Abruptly, Norman stopped folding the red paper over the box. Refusing to look up, he just sat frozen in time. He let the paper dangle in mid-air and then eventually let it fluttered over the box.

When he didn't look up right away, Sig held his breath and tried to remain calm and collected. If he was correct, and he prayed to God he wasn't, his brother would need him more than ever right now.

"No," Norman whispered, still studying the box on the floor. _Although I can understand why you would have jumped right to that conclusion._

Sig couldn't contain the sigh of relief as it escaped from his lips. Although something was clearly wrong, as he was still left staring at the top of his brother's head, his worst fear had been eliminated. _Scratch that… Being the uncle to a teenage brother is not my worst fear; a baby we would somehow manage. On the other hand, losing someone else I love…_

"She's leaving," Norman said in a hushed rush, his broad shoulders trembling as he said those two heart-wrenching words.

Caught completely off guard, Sig's jaw dropped. "Leaving?" he questioned with uncertainty.

Slowly, Norman looked up.

The look on his younger brother's face caused Sig's heart to constrict tightly in his chest. It was the most heartbreaking, pained expression he'd seen on Norman's face in a long time. In fact, it was almost the same look Norman had on his face when their father came to school and told both of them their mother had died. It was the look of pure loss, fear and complete confusion all wrapped up in one.

"Her father was offered a job in Virginia..." the tough guy whispered, his bottom lip quivering slightly and getting choked up on the words, "The whole family is moving across the country next month." _Just saying it out loud hurts._

Sig stared blankly back at the broken face in front of him. "I don't understand," he said, shaking his head sadly, "I thought Mr. Winchester…excuse me," he emphasized the word, "…Ret. Lt. Col. Winchester….was just that…retired?"

Norman shrugged one shoulder up to his ear. He still didn't fully understand it himself. "Don't know. Some top-secret, classified shit from The Pentagon. The bastard can't talk about it." Narrowing his eyes, he continued acerbically, "Probably hunting undercover, supernatural creatures bent on destroying the world. Bet her Old Man would fucking love that shit." A spark of undiluted rage flashed in Norman's blue eyes as he spoke about Amanda's hardnosed father.

"Hmmm," Sig murmured cautiously, aware that Norman's emotional pendulum was swinging wildly. One minute his brother was on the verge of crying, the next on the precipice of misdirected anger. It was a precarious situation for the normally controlled seventeen-year-old. "And how does Amanda feel about this?" he asked, leading Norman away from murderous thoughts.

Norman raised his voice, forgetful of the persons downstairs. "She's fucking pissed off! What the hell do you think - she'd be happy?!" He flailed his hands around histrionically, almost ripping the Christmas paper that had been so carefully cut to size.

Sig cringed. _So much for diluting the fury in my brother's eyes_.

Catching himself, Norman quieted down, if only a tad. "It's her God-damn senior year! Everything she's been looking forward to for three and a half years is about to get ripped away from her because her father's a selfish asshole who's only thinking about himself. Graduating with her friends, Senior Week in Mexico, Prom with me… If it wasn't for her holding me back, I'd punch that pus…"

"Norman," Sig purposely kept his voice very flat and natural, "Is there someone she can stay with…I mean, a family member or friends in the area…just until she graduates?"

"HER father won't let her!" Norman said fatalistically, "We've already thought of that. Amanda begged and begged him to let her stay with her Aunt Susie over in Pierce County but all the jerk can say is 'our family stays together.' Believe me, we've tried everything to convince him to let her stay but HE WON'T LISTEN!"

"WHAT ARE YOUS TWO FIGHTING ABOUT UP THERE?" a booming voice came from the living room below. "JESUS H. CHRIST, YOU'VE ONLY BEEN TOGETHER FOR LESS THAN A DAY…"

With a wince, Sig bounced up and went to the bedroom door. Opening it a crack, he yelled back respectfully, "No, sir, we're not fighting. Just talking about the game is all."

"Well, keep it down," Sverre hollered up, "before you wake the neighbors."

Sig bit his tongue before he could remind their father that they didn't have neighbors at the present moment. Simply, he said, "Yes, sir" and quietly shut the door.

Leaning against the closed door, Sig stared nervously around his brother's bedroom. The apprehension he felt came directly from the source of suspicion regarding Norman's recent work history. _If Amanda was leaving, what did the tough guy have to save up so much money for?_ The question had an answer and Sig had a feeling he knew what the answer was. He just wasn't ready to hear it.

"Thanks," Norman said gratefully, tilting his chin towards the closed door.

Sig forced a smile. "Dad doesn't know, does he?"

"No," Norman shook his head, "And neither does Edgar."

"How can he not?" Sig took a step away from the door and resumed his place on the floor by the bed, "He's friends with Amanda's sister. I'm sure he must have heard something at school. He and Sally are in the same grade."

"Because Sally doesn't even know," Norman explained with a disgusted tone, "Their father thought it best to keep that information from her until after Christmas." Raising his voice several octaves, he cynically mimicked Mr. Winchester, "Wouldn't want to ruin our holiday fun with Sally crying and whining the whole time."

"They told Amanda and not Sally?" Sig found that to be astonishing.

"They didn't exactly tell Amanda," Norman elucidated, "She found out snooping through her Dad's mail. She was worried he was hiding some of her college application letters in hopes of keeping her away from me. Man, he was pissed when he found out she knew what was going on."

"Norm…" Sig said the name with trepidation. He stopped and gave his brother laser-focused eye contact. Before he could back out, Sig asked in one breath, "What are you planning?"

Norman glared back, his expression unchanging. It was a brief standoff that lasted only a second.

Then, Norman's face broke into a broad smile. "You know me too well, don't you?"

"Sometimes it scares me," Sig admitted with a half-grin.

"Nobody knows…"

"Except Aaron," Sig's eyes widened, his jealously showing.

"Well, maybe him," Norman said sheepishly, "But he's the one whose gonna help me…I mean, us….so I had to tell him. He's a good buddy. He won't say anything."

"Help US with what?" Sig asked. Sig knew he wasn't one of the USs in the statement. That union included Norman and Amanda exclusively.

"Get fake IDs so we can cross the state line."

_Holy Mother_. "And which state are you going to?" Sig asked, wishing he knew the legal marrying age in Idaho, Oregon and Montana.

"Not state," Norman corrected him, "Country."

"Jesus Christ!" Sig couldn't contain his amazement over his younger brother's uncharacteristic recklessness, "You're going to Canada!"

"To elope," Norman resignedly stated.

"Oh," Sig tossed up his right, ring-less hand, "And here I thought you were just going for a light sojourn over to Vancouver Island…although I hear it makes a lovely place to honeymoon so, why not, right?" Unable to restrain himself, he burst out, "Are you fucking CRAZY? Married? At your age? At HER age? Her father will kill you both!"

Surprisingly unfazed, Norman went back to wrapping and ignored the outburst. What else had he been expecting? For his older brother to offer to drive the car and stand in as best man? "I can see you are not supportive of this plan," he stated blithely.

"Not supportive?" Sig asked incredulously, "Not supportive?" he repeated, higher pitched, "You think I want to see my brother dead?" _Or make this big of a mistake?_ It was truly disconcerting how capriciously Norman was being about this whole cockamamie solution.

"I've done my homework," Norman said confidently, focused on wrapping the box with the beautiful riding jacket inside, "You can get legally married in Canada at 17, no questions asked. I've also figured out how much money we need for the fake IDs, gas for the truck, hotel lodgings along the way, the marriage license, food, etc. Even got a route planned out where we can stop and go sight-seeing. Gave the truck a tune-up, oil change…you know, for the long trip."

Pleased with himself, Norman heedlessly continued, "Now, I've almost got just enough cash saved up and, in a stroke of luck, Amanda's parents are going out of town so that should make things infinitely easier. They are leaving New Year's Day and will be gone for a week. By the time they come home…" his voice faltered, coming to a slow, silent end. _We'll be married and then they__ can't__ take her away from me._

Mystified, Sig's jaw hung open. Norman HAD put a lot of thought into his planning, at least when it came to the before and during. "And what happens after - when Mama and Papa Winchester come home. What then?" The blond probed further, "Because you're gonna to have to explain her Dad why his seventeen-year-old daughter is suddenly wearing a wedding ring."

Norman's countenance slumped shamefully. He looked up, abashed, at his older brother. "That's the one thing I don't have." As if it was not the first time the thought crossed his mind, Norman genuinely asked, "Do you think Dad would kill me if we 'borrowed' Mom's rings for the time being…temporarily, of course…until I can save up enough money for a proper engagement and wedding ring?"

Sig clamped his mouth shut before he said something he was going to regret. With his jaw muscles twitching, he glared at his brother as if Norman has just grown a second head. If it wasn't bad enough that the guy had come up with this hair-brained scheme, he was now planning on swiping THEIR mother's wedding rings and using them as some kind of strange place holder until he can afford to buy his bride her own.

Not getting an answer, Norman ducked his head. He gesticulated indifferently as he scratched his military-style haircut, "Well, someone might as well put Mom's old rings to good use for a while."

With that offhanded assessment, Sig came inches away from losing his mind. Balling his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, he closed his eyes and focused on remembering how much it hurt when his ex-girlfriend, Sara, left him for another guy. He tried to get in touch with how it felt to be so madly and blindly in love that one would do practically anything to stay that happy, that perfectly blissful, for the rest of their life.

"If you don't have the balls to ask Dad for those rings, I suggest not taking them," Sig advised. Adding the question, "I'm assuming you don't because I bet you don't even have the nerve to tell him where you're going...or why?

Norman blanched a little, displaying nervousness for the first time, "Hell, no. All he'll 'know' is that I'm staying over at Aaron's house for a few days to study for mid-terms. I'll tell him the truth…when we get back to Seattle."

"Norman…" Sig started with a calm voice that he didn't feel. _This is so dangerous on so many levels…_

"Don't, Sig," Norman finished applying the last piece of Scotch tape and leaned back against his dresser. "You don't have to say it."

Sig opened his eyes. "And what am I not supposed to say, Norman?"

"What you're not supposed to say is…" Norman reached out an empty hand and gestured to the drill bit set on the bed, "…hand me that, will ya?"

Forgetting why he came in Norman's room in the first place, Sig looked confused and had to turn around to see what Norman was referring to. Spotting their father's Christmas gift, Sig grabbed it and tossed it over with a force that exposed his frustrations.

Norman caught the box with ease, choosing to overlook the fact that the item had been thrown AT him and not necessarily TO him.

Carefully pushing Edgar's Christmas gift to the side, Norman replaced the now vacant spot with Dad's drill bit set.

Attending the task at hand, Norman all the while quietly spoke as he wrapped and cut and taped. "I don't need a lecture on how crazy all this must sound to you. I know it must sound like I've completely lost my mind. But…I don't give two shits about how it sounds anymore. I've thought this over a million times in my head and even I know it sounds freaking crazy. But, each time I think about the whole damn thing, my mind comes back to the same place."

"And that place is…" Sig sighed, sensing the answer.

Looking up, Norman simply stated, "I can't live without her."

_I know, bro…I know…_ "So move," Sig's voice cracked a little with emotion, "Move so you can stay close to her. Go to college on the east coast. God knows there are enough great colleges over there." _It's not that I want to see my brother living thousands of miles away but if this is what makes him happy…_

"Can't!" Norman immediately rejected the idea with a simple statement, "Can't leave Edgar. I promised him I'd stay after you left."

"He'd understand," Sig came close to pleading, "I'm sure he would."

Norman just shook his head sadly. "No. Not an option."

"Where are you both gonna live?" Sig asked, desperate to poke holes in Norman's grand plan, "Here…with Dad?"

Norman just shrugged his shoulders. "Until we both graduate and get our own place. Maybe we can get an apartment together on campus. I'm sure we'll both get accepted to SCC (Seattle Community College) and we can both work to pay for tuition and rent."

"With your grades and with the money Dad put away, you could go to Gonzaga University or Whitworth or the University of Washington if you wanted to. They are all local…or close to it." Sig logically stated, "Why settle for a community college?"

"Because, big brother," Norman talked as if he was speaking to a little child, "The money Dad put away for me is going to have to go to other things…like a place to live and health insurance for…my wife…and stuff like that. It's just easier this way."

"But is it what's BEST?" Sig asked forcefully.

"If I'm with HER, then…" Norman paused, straightening his shoulders, "…yes, this is what is best."

Sig shook his head. _This is what's best? Carrying fake IDs into another country? Getting married at seventeen and before even graduating from high school? And getting married for all the wrong reasons? How about getting a 9mm slug in the ass from Mr. Winchester's sidearm? You can't tell me giving up the chance for a great college education and living a normal, carefree life of a twenty-something college student…all because you have a wife to support…is what is best!_ "This is insane."

"What did I say about that?" Norman pointed an accusatory finger, returning to wrapping their father's present and prepping for the holidays.

Wisely, Norman knew there was nothing left to say between the two of them. No matter how much he talked, there was nothing he could say to get Sig to understand. And, frankly, his older brother was becoming quite the party pooper to his perfectly laid plans.

Lost, Sig sat on the floor in total desolation. He watched Norman's adept hands make easy work of wrapping the Christmas present, all the while thinking of how he was going to stop his love-sick brother from making one of the biggest…if not THE biggest…mistake in his young life.

The air in Norman's bedroom seemed to close in around them as they both were lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly, the silence that hung heavy in the small room was broken.

Norman's voice startled Sig for a minute, as if the tough guy had some kind of way of reading his inner thoughts. "I know," Norman swallowed hard, "you don't agree with this and… I won't ask you to…but…"

_Good! Don't ask me to support this because I won't._ "What?" Sig asked hesitantly.

Norman pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on his knee. He smiled a little at his older brother, like they were being naughty children once again. "Just don't try and stop me, OK?"

Sig leered at his brother for a moment, fully grasping what Norman was asking him to do. He was asking him to lie and cover for him. Or, at the very least, pretend he didn't know anything. The bold request should have made Sig furious.

Instead, Sig let out a wry little chuckle. "You know," he reminisced, and in effect, stalled, "I told Edgar once that trying to stop you is like trying to stop a freight train." _Doesn't mean I won't try, though._

Norman smiled back, his eyes crinkling with laughter. "Sounds about right."

"Speaking of Edgar," Sig grew somber, "He made some great points earlier today, even changed my mind about some things. You know, the stuff he said about being kept in the dark made a lot of sense, all things considered when you look at how he got blindsided about Dad dating."

"I remember," Norman heaved weightily at the unwelcomed reminder. He let his legs stretch out before him, "And I know he's right. I have to start letting him in on stuff…

"…We, Norman, not I. This goes for ME, too." Sig conveyed, "We have to start including him in on what's going on around him."

"But not THIS, Sig" Norman shook his head from side to side in a slow, meaningful way, "Not something this big, not a secret this important. I love that kid more than life itself but he cannot keep a secret to save his skinny ass."

"Agreed," Sig nodded, wishing he could lecture Norman about secrets being the telltale sign that you're doing something wrong. But, just as wise as his little brother was, Sig knew Norman would not be receptive to his counterpoints. He needed to retreat for the time being and regroup.

And just like that, another pot got added to the Hansen's crowded back burners.

"Although I think, this time, it's ME that's gonna have to deal with the fallout when Edgar does realize what happened," Sig groaned, playing his part. _Not that ANYTHING is actually gonna happen._

"Promise me," Norman pressed, getting back to this very important point, "Promise me you won't try and stop me. And you won't tell Dad?" _Not that he could stop me, either, but you both could make it that much harder_.

Sig maintained solid eye contact with Norman. _Telling Dad is my absolute last resort but…I'll take it if I have nothing else left. In the meantime, I'll have to look for another way to stop this train from leaving the station because…come hell or high water…I'm not letting my brother go without a fight. Now, that's a promise you can take to the bank._

_Promises…I made a few over the summer…most of which I kept and I'm very proud about that. One of those promises – to always be honest with my family._

So, Sig's next move hurt on the inside, leaving its mark.

For the first time in his life, Sig looked his younger brother and best friend right in the eye and made a promise he knew he never had any intention of keeping. "I promise."

~tbc

****Again, a huge thank you to my beta, hpfan4evernow. I cannot say enough how wonderful she is and how lucky I am.****


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